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It seems, my very raison d’être was very much true to the worldly wisdom before entering the straits of ISB&M, Nande. But now, I seem to be lost.
I can describe my self as another ordinary mortal, existing just for the sake of it. This ordinary gives the world its mere existence while some extraordinary might give it, its value. And that’s worthiness of being existent. I’ve lost total control of my being holier-than-thou; simply I can’t be ever again, what I used to be. And, I’m prodigiously lamenting for it.
I’m clear in my thoughts, would be a highly wrong saying at this point of time. Had it been the time of my leaving home back in June last year, prima facie I was pristine clear about my modus Vivendi.
And now, I’m stuck with this stark question “Now What”?
And still, at some ghostly hour, I manage to write this one just to resemble and restructure myself,
Time is the school, in which we learn,
Time is fire, in which we burn.
But time isn’t a frame, where we can shield our selves.
But yeah, time is definitely a mask, we can hide.
and I cry in hues of secret alphabets. I need more, be benevolent.
Let time make me camouflage myself and heal me. Because, the antiquity of time is the youth of the world. Some eerie thought process in me says, “I do believe, but can’t act”.
I’m paralyzed, I’m haunted. Heal me.
P.S.
I pray,
He who binds to himself a joy…
Amen.
Bhargav Trivedi
10068
I can describe my self as another ordinary mortal, existing just for the sake of it. This ordinary gives the world its mere existence while some extraordinary might give it, its value. And that’s worthiness of being existent. I’ve lost total control of my being holier-than-thou; simply I can’t be ever again, what I used to be. And, I’m prodigiously lamenting for it.
I’m clear in my thoughts, would be a highly wrong saying at this point of time. Had it been the time of my leaving home back in June last year, prima facie I was pristine clear about my modus Vivendi.
And now, I’m stuck with this stark question “Now What”?
And still, at some ghostly hour, I manage to write this one just to resemble and restructure myself,
Time is the school, in which we learn,
Time is fire, in which we burn.
But time isn’t a frame, where we can shield our selves.
But yeah, time is definitely a mask, we can hide.
and I cry in hues of secret alphabets. I need more, be benevolent.
Let time make me camouflage myself and heal me. Because, the antiquity of time is the youth of the world. Some eerie thought process in me says, “I do believe, but can’t act”.
I’m paralyzed, I’m haunted. Heal me.
P.S.
I pray,
He who binds to himself a joy…
Amen.
Bhargav Trivedi
10068